


I'll Tell You What You Already Know

by jamesileee



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Love, Secret Crush, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:59:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesileee/pseuds/jamesileee
Summary: Set during season four. One let-loose drunken night causes Sylvie Brett to change the way she sees everything: herself, her life, and Stella Kidd. (I wrote this back when season four was actually airing. I just found it and would like to complete it.)





	1. Chapter 1

To drink or not to drink, that was the question. Except it wasn't the question anymore because it had been answered in the positive too many times tonight already. Sylvie Brett was drunk. Not the kind of drunk where you stumble onto a penis and have no recollection of it the next day; she was let-loose, carefree, 'fuck it', drunk, and that was exactly how she had hoped the night would go after the day she'd had.  
A bad call had left her and Jimmy trying to save an entire family from a shooter. They found out after the fact (and after the mom and her ten-year-old son had already passed away) that the shooter was the mother's secret lover. Not so secret anymore, Brett thought. They had him in custody, a small victory. But that fact couldn't bring the mother and child back.  
"You okay?" Jimmy asked, breaking Sylvie from her reflection, suddenly on the bar stool next to her at Molly's.  
"Yep. Just thinking," she answered with a half-hearted smile, sipping her umpteenth beer.  
"We can't save 'em all," Jimmy smiled, attempting to be empathetic but sounding more cold than Brett would have liked.  
At this point in Brett's contemplation (and inebriation) that was the absolute worst answer. It set her off. And Sylvie Brett was not set off easily.  
"We can't save them all?!" she said loudly, right into Jimmy's face. "Why the hell are you a paramedic? Why were you ever a firefighter? How the fuck can you feel like that? Just shrug off a mother and child dying because we quote can't save them all? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"  
"Dance with me," Kidd said, next to her suddenly and pulling her away by the arm.  
"Dance with you?!" Brett yelled, adrenaline still racing as she was pulled on to the make-shift dance floor.  
"You need to walk away from Jimmy. You need to walk away from work. Just dance with me," Kidd said, a smile on her face that calmed Brett down.  
"Stell…" Brett tried to argue, but she was already dancing by no choice of her own.  
"You hear that?" Kidd said quietly next to Brett's ear. "I know you've had enough to drink to feel that beat. Just listen to the music. Let yourself let go for a minute," she said, pulling Brett by the hips and dancing behind her.  
The dance floor (if you could call it that) was packed. No one took notice of Brett and Kidd dancing except Jimmy and that was only because he had just been called out in such a way and was feeling like an ass at that point. He watched the girls dance, watched Brett's anger fade away with the mere presence of Kidd. He hadn't intended to anger her; quite the opposite, in fact. They really couldn't save them all and he knew that Brett knew that. He had no idea that this particular case had gotten to her so badly. But Kidd did, he realized. She seemed to know exactly what Brett needed at any particular time. He chalked it up to Kidd being better at reading people than he was. He sought out Cruz and Otis, trying to let it all go.  
"Dude, what the hell did you do?!" Otis said, over-dramatically, as Jimmy approached their seats at the bar.  
"What do you mean? What did you see?" Jimmy asked, defensive.  
"I saw you creeping up on Brett and then her ripping your nuts off. Did you miss that?" Otis rolled his eyes.  
"And then Kidd coming to save your ass," Cruz added.  
"I, um, I told her we can't save them all," Jimmy said sheepishly, sipping his beer.  
"Dude!"  
"Aww!"  
"Don't you know her at all?" Otis asked, shaking his head.  
"Don't you know any of fifty-one at all? That's the worst thing you could ever say," Cruz told him.  
"I don't understand. I wasn't trying to piss her off. I was trying to be comforting," Jimmy shrugged.  
"That's not comforting at all. That's like saying that your job isn't worth a damn. You can't save them all, so what the hell are you working so hard for?" Otis said, looking over to the dance floor where Brett and Kidd were still dancing.  
"I didn't mean it like that," Jimmy argued.  
"And we get that, but Brett doesn't," Cruz told him.  
"Should I go apologize?"  
"Not now, dude," Otis told him seriously. "She's finally happy. Don't dig it up again. Just let her have her time."  
On the dance floor, Brett had nearly forgotten about her argument with Jimmy. She'd never forget about the victims that she couldn't manage to save but at least right now she knew that she had done her best.  
Brett was getting hot- in every sense of the word. Early May in Chicago had been warmer than usual and dancing in a tiny bar didn't help to alleviate the heat. Kidd's warm body was pressed up behind her, keeping the beat steadily and beginning to get to Brett's head. Had she had too much to drink? Probably. But she hadn't had enough to be getting flustered by dancing with her friend.  
"Do you need a drink?" Kidd said from behind her, mouth a little too close to her ear for Brett's comfort in this state.  
Brett pulled away from Kidd's hands on her hips, from her body entirely.  
"I don't know if I should," she answered quietly, looking at the ground and her shaking hands.  
"Well I'm already not letting you drive anywhere and I'm liking you as a dancing partner," Kidd said, throwing a wink in for good measure.  
Brett sank. She couldn't take those puppy eyes and the vow of protection. What was wrong with her? She wanted to keep dancing with Kidd until she dropped.  
"One drink," Brett said, grinning, allowing Kidd to know that she had won, despite herself.  
"Ah-ha!" Kidd laughed, grabbing Brett around the waist and squeezing her, naturally. "I'll be right back. And you didn't say what kind of drink, so I guess it's up to me…" she let go of Brett, disappearing into the crowd with a huge, genuine grin on her face.  
Brett was lost. She was hot and sweaty and confused and drunk and she just didn't know what to do with herself anymore. Part of her liked that feeling; she was always so in control and precise that it was a little bit nice to have a moment of disarray. She was terrified, nonetheless. Brett always had a plan for everything. Right now she didn't even know how or if she was getting home that night. She spotted Dawson's face across the bar, sitting at a table with Matt. They made eye contact intentionally and Brett's need for comfort drew her in that direction.  
"Dude!" Brett said, smacking her hand on the table and looked seriously into Dawson's eyes upon reaching the booth.  
"Aw, you're drunk," Dawson said with a laugh, and Matt laughed right along with her.  
"No, I'm good. Why'd you say that?" Brett asked self-consciously.  
"You called me dude…" Dawson grinned. "Where's Jimmy's hero?"  
"Who?" Brett asked, obviously lost.  
"Kidd. I heard she saved him from losing his balls to you," Dawson chuckled.  
"Eyeballs, maybe," she rolled her own. "She's getting us drinks. One last drink for me, I promise," she said, giving away the fact that she was indeed drunk and worried about it.  
"Okay, sailor," Dawson saluted her with a chuckle. "Seriously though, I know you had a rough day. It's okay to get fucked up. You don't have to be worried or apologise for it," she set her hand on Brett's comfortingly.  
"I know, and I appreciate that but I didn't plan to get like…fucked up," she whispered the last two words like they were a secret, causing Dawson and Casey to burst out laughing.  
"Who's fucked up?" Kidd asked loudly, intentionally, suddenly behind Brett with two drinks in her hands.  
Brett jumped, startled.  
"Your mom!" she shouted, mostly from instinct, pushing Kidd hard by both shoulders, jostling their drinks.  
"Hey, if you spill these you're buying replacements!" Kidd said, setting the drinks down onto Dawson and Casey's table quickly, hoping to save them.  
"I didn't want a drink in the first place," Brett argued, crossing her arms.  
"Lies," Kidd said without missing a beat. "You want to keep dancing with me all night."  
Brett froze. Sure, she had thought that but had she accidentally said it aloud? She didn't think she was that far gone. Could Kidd have read her mind? She completely believed in psychics but if Kidd was one then she needed to know ASAP so she could control her thoughts.  
"Hey," Kidd tried to get her attention, easily noticing that she had become lost in thought. "Yo," she tried again, watching as Brett dazed off with a worried look on her face. "Sylv?" she spoke in barely a whisper the last time, finally breaking Brett out of her daze and gaining her attention. She touched her forearm softly and huge blue eyes looked up to meet her own. "You okay?"  
Brett smiled, an actual, genuine smile. Kidd's concern for her was evident.  
"What were you thinking?" Kidd asked quietly enough that only Brett could hear.  
"That you're right," Brett said, grin widening, causing Dawson and Casey to silently wonder what was up. "I do want to keep dancing with you all night."  
Kidd smiled back a huge, sincere smile. "Good," she said, a look in her eyes that was deeper than the simple word portrayed. "Then take a few sips of that and let's get to it."  
"What'd you get me?" Brett asked, eyeing the brightly coloured drink strangely.  
"It's a surprise," Kidd grinned, removing the Red Bull can from her own drink to take a sip.  
"It's not a surprise. It's a trash can. And you are already close enough to trashed," Dawson piped up with a chuckle.  
"A trash can?!" Brett exclaimed, wondering why the hell it would ever be called that.  
"You ruined the surprise!" Kidd said, pushing Dawson's shoulder.  
"No, I didn't. Surprise! You're drunk!" Dawson laughed.  
Brett shook her head. "Maybe I shouldn't have this…" she said, just to Kidd. "I am already feeling… drunk," she chuckled.  
"Babe, you'll be fine! I got you, you know that," Kidd told her seriously, touching her arm and leaving it there.  
Brett raised one eyebrow skeptically, taking a sip of the drink. It was delicious.  
"Well?" Kidd asked, seeing the verdict already reflected in Brett's happy eyes.  
"It's good…" Brett grinned, taking another big sip. "What's in it?"  
"Um…everything. That's why it's called a trash can," Kidd laughed. "Come on, we gotta dance before you pass the hell out," she said, removing the glass from Brett's hand as she took another sip and setting both of the drinks on Dawson and Casey's table. "We'll be back…" she sang, dragging Brett back to the dance floor.  
The closer they got to the dance floor, the more Brett's head began to spin, and it wasn't because of the amount of alcohol in her system. Kidd's hands were on her hips already, pulling her close as a deep beat filled the room. Kidd danced like she knew what she was doing, which only made things worse for Brett. She let Kidd take the lead and just hung around for the ride. Kidd slipped behind her again, her hands never leaving Brett's hips, unintentionally pulling her closer. Brett's back was flush against Kidd's chest. She could feel the bass and the beat of Kidd's heart inside her own body. Kidd slid her hands easily over Brett's arms, reaching her hands and pulling the girl even further into her. Brett closed her eyes and just moved with the warm body behind her, smiling.  


Xxx  
Brett sat on her couch in sweatpants and a tank top as she stared off into space. She and Kidd had danced until the bar closed, well after they were the only people dancing. Kidd called them a cab, made sure that Brett had her keys and purse and phone, and made sure that she got home safely. She even walked Brett to the door, assuming Dawson was already asleep, to assure that she could get safely into her apartment. She hugged her goodnight. That was not a rarity for the pair but to Brett, tonight it felt different. She was lost in thought, still feeling Kidd's body pressed against hers, her breath on her neck, hearing her words whispered in her ear.  
"You made it," Dawson said sleepily, coming into the living room and startling Brett from her thought.  
"Yeah. Been home a while," Brett said quietly. "What are you doing up?"  
"I haven't been to sleep yet. I tried, but no luck. Good thing we're off tomorrow," she shrugged, sitting on the couch next to her friend. "Did you have fun tonight?" she asked, already knowing the answer.  
"I did," Brett smiled naturally, still looking across the room and not at her friend, obviously only half in the conversation.  
"You okay?" Dawson asked, sensing that something was up, beyond Brett's inebriation.  
"Yeah…" Brett nodded solemnly, though her answer was obviously laced with question.  
"What's up?" Dawson asked, concerned.  
Brett sighed deeply, letting her head fall back onto the couch. She was still buzzed enough to talk more than she should and she knew it. But her mind was racing and she was also too buzzed to care.  
"It's normal to dance with your friends, right? You've danced with your female friends, haven't you?" Brett asked, simply and quietly.  
Brett's strangeness hit Dawson like a brick. She had been weird all night, in one way or another; Dawson had initially attributed it to the day's rough call but now it all made perfect sense. She pictured Brett's face when they first made eye contact at the bar; her half-lidded, flushed face. Dawson smiled but tried to hide it.  
"Yeah, I've danced with my female friends," Dawson told her, trying to keep a straight face. "Of course it's normal." Dawson waited a beat before adding: "I'm not sure most girls end up crazy turned on by it, though…"  
Brett's head shot up so quickly that it made her momentarily dizzy. She was certainly looking at Dawson now. She didn't have time to formulate an argument before her cheeks were beet red in a blush, her mouth agape.  
"I…." she squeaked out, unable to come up with anything else yet.  
Dawson burst out laughing. She was not trying to be insensitive or rude to her friend, but that reaction was priceless.  
"I'm not… I wasn't…" Brett was shaking her head now, hard, standing from the couch and beginning to pace furiously. "You're crazy," she added, still wide-eyed.  
"Brett, calm down," Dawson chuckled, patting the space on the couch next to her that Brett had just left. "Come, sit and talk to me."  
"There's nothing to talk about!" Brett almost shouted, feeling her heart racing in her chest. There was nowhere to hide. It was all over now.  
"Brett…" Dawson said calmly. "Please don't freak out. I was just being funny."  
"No you weren't…" Brett said quietly, calming.  
"Please talk to me."  
Brett took her seat with a huff, pulling her legs up to herself and wrapping her arms around them, feeling vulnerable. She let her head rest again and thought of where to begin. She really didn't feel like getting into all this but she knew that Dawson was the voice of reason and that getting her opinion might very well help Brett's nerves.  
"She wasn't saving Jimmy tonight, she was saving me," Brett said softly, remembering the situation. "She didn't tell me that and she didn't have to. She wouldn't have cared if I ripped Jimmy's face off. She knew I was upset."  
"Of course she did," Dawson nodded.  
"I tried to argue with her. I was so angry and it wasn't really the time for dancing, you know? But as soon as we got out there and she had her arms around me…" Brett trailed off. "So at first it was just fun. I appreciated that she distracted me and made me feel better. But then…"  
"Then what?" Dawson asked, eyes wide, looking at Brett like she was being read a bed-time story.  
"I don't know," Brett shook her head, feeling silly. "Something changed. The tone. The feeling. It wasn't just two friends dancing anymore. I thought she might have felt it too, when she asked if I wanted another drink. Her lips brushed my ear and I freaked out," she admitted.  
"Why did you freak out?" Dawson asked.  
"Because it made me feel…"  
"Hot? Horny? Wet?" Dawson asked, not even trying to be perverted, just so engrossed in the story.  
"Dawson!" Brett scoffed, embarrassed, tossing a pillow at her friend.  
"What? Are those wrong?"  
"No…" Brett admitted. "But it was so much more than that. I didn't know what to do. I was so terrified about how I was feeling but I was so into her that I never wanted it to stop." Brett put her head on her knees, feeling lost and defeated.  
"Brett, just talk to her about it," Dawson said seriously.  
"Ha!" Brett rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course. I'll just talk to her about it," she said sarcastically. "'So, Stell, remember when we were dancing the other night? Yeah, I got really hot and bothered and I kind of just want to do that all the time,'" Brett practically spat.  
"I mean maybe I wouldn't say it just like that, but…"  
BEEP BEEP  
Brett's phone alerted a text and drew the girls from their intense conversation. Both Brett and Dawson looked at the phone in surprise. It was four-thirty in the morning, not a common time for either girl to be having a text message conversation.  
Brett shrugged at Dawson and picked up her phone, though she had a feeling that she already knew who it was contacting her.  
[Hey babe. I hope that you're fast asleep and feeling okay. Hope that trash can didn't do you in. I had fun with you tonight. Sleep well. – Stella]  
Brett smiled the widest smile unknowingly, alerting Dawson to just who was texting. Dawson smiled to herself for her friend.  
"What'd she say?" Dawson asked, nudging her excitedly.  
Brett looked at Dawson and smiled, holding her phone up for her to see. Dawson's smile spread, seeing the happiness in her friend.  
"Talk to her, Brett."  


Xxx  
Ten o'clock the next morning found Brett unfortunately awake and incredibly groggy. Her head was pounding and her eyes couldn't open more than a quarter of the way. She wished for sleep but her body found her awake regardless.  
Dawson was running around the kitchen like someone who hadn't had too much to drink the night before, despite being up until nearly six a.m. with her roommate.  
"What are you doing today?" Dawson asked happily, pouring a cup of coffee for each of them, already dressed and ready for her day.  
"As of right now, being hung over," Brett grumbled, her voice still gravelly from sleep. "Later I hope to go buy some groceries and then come home and eat them, assuming my stomach isn't still turning."  
"Aww…" Dawson said sympathetically, even sticking her bottom lip out sadly. "Anything else?" she asked, obviously pointedly.  
"Nope," Brett answered, raising an eyebrow.  
"Nothing like… talking to Kidd?" Dawson asked with a grin.  
"No, Gabby, I'm not going to talk to Kidd. We were drunk, we danced, I'm going to leave it at that," Brett told her, too exhausted to be having this conversation right now.  
"Well it's not like she's going to leave you alone all day. What happens when she texts or calls?"  
"Then I will talk to her normally, like I do every other day, as though last night never happened," she grumbled.  
"Do you want her to think you forgot about it?" Dawson asked, way too upbeat for Brett to handle in her current state.  
"I didn't forget. I want her to know that it wasn't a big deal," Brett said honestly.  
"But it was a big deal…" Dawson sang, suddenly interrupted by a knock on their door.  
"Ugh…" Brett growled, pulling the blanket that she was snuggling with on the couch over her head.  
"Don't worry, Matt's stopping over," Dawson smiled, almost bounding to the door.  
Dawson threw the door open happily, expecting to see her boyfriend, only to be met by Stella Kidd with a brown paper bag in her hand.  
"Hey, Gabby. Sorry to bug you so early. I was worried about Sylvie. I thought she'd be feeling pretty nasty today. I wanted to bring her some hangover remedies," Kidd smiled casually, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Had she made a mistake by just dropping in?  
"Aww… how sweet," Dawson said pointedly, earning an eye roll from Kidd.  
"Is she awake yet?" Kidd asked, instinctively looking past Dawson into the apartment.  
"She is," Dawson informed her. "But barely," she grinned. "Brett," Dawson called into the apartment with a tone that she knew Brett could read. "It's for you."  
Brett uncovered her head and squinted into the kitchen to see Kidd smiling before her. She felt suddenly self-conscious. She had only gotten as far as crawling out of bed and to the couch. She hadn't brushed her hair or teeth. Hell, she'd barely opened her eyes.  
"Hi," Brett smiled despite herself, seeing Kidd approach the couch with an empathetic look on her face.  
"Hey…" Kidd smiled softly. "You're looking like you feel about how I expected you to feel."  
"I'm so disheveled. I'm sorry," Brett chuckled nervously, smoothing her hair to the best of her ability and trying like hell to be a little less groggy.  
"Babe, don't be sorry about that," Kidd told her, smiling and placing a warm hand on her weak shoulder. "I brought some headache medicine- aspirin-free; I know you're allergic- I got some water, some kale juice and an egg sandwich. That should help at least a little."  
From the kitchen Dawson just watched and smiled. She had to hold in her laughter when it came to the aspirin comment.  
"You didn't have to do that, Stell," Brett said, smiling regardless.  
"I just wanted you to feel better," Kidd smiled.  
Kidd dug into her little paper bag and pulled out the migraine pills, pouring two into her hand and giving them to Brett. The water came next.  
"Take these, first. You probably didn't drink any water at all last night, did you?"  
Brett just shook her head sheepishly, swallowing the pills and taking a drink of water.  
"Now drink like a quarter of this, at least," Kidd opened the bottle of kale juice and handed it carefully to her friend.  
"This stuff's nasty though," Brett scrunched up her nose.  
"I don't care. Drink it," Kidd told her, holding her hand firmly against Brett's shoulder until she took the bottle from her hands and had a sip.  
Brett made a disgusted face almost immediately, but Kidd had her resolve face on and she took another drink, plastering a fake smile on her face after a quarter of the bottle was gone.  
"Good girl," Kidd grinned, putting the cap back on the bottle and walking into the kitchen to put it in the refrigerator.  
Brett rested her head on the back of the couch and watched as Kidd and Dawson interacted in the kitchen. She couldn't quite hear what they were saying (thanks, mostly, to the fog of the hangover) but they looked comfortable and happy. She felt so fortunate to have each of them in her life, even if for different reasons. Brett caught Kidd's eye when the girl glanced over at her and they both smiled.  
"Poor thing," Kidd said softly as she re-approached the couch. "I feel bad."  
"You didn't make me drink all that," Brett smiled up at her as she sat down next to her on the couch- right next to her.  
"No, but the trash can was probably like the big nasty cherry on top of how you're feeling today," Kidd admitted, wrapping her arm around Brett's shoulders naturally and drawing her near.  
"It was delicious, though," Brett smiled through half-lidded eyes, allowing herself to take comfort in the feeling of her friend next to her.  
"Just rest," Kidd said in a near whisper, pulling the blanket up around them both. "You'll feel better soon."  
"I don't want to fall asleep on you," Brett said in a sleepy, raspy tone, though she rested her head on Kidd's shoulder nonetheless.  
"Shh…" Kidd whispered, pushing the hair away from Brett's ear. She felt Brett's breathing slow and deepen almost immediately after being pulled into her comfortable embrace. She ran her hand through Brett's hair and smiled, unaware that Dawson was watching with a grin from the kitchen.  


Xxx  
When Matt knocked on the apartment door thirty minutes later, Dawson sprinted to it in order to let him in and quickly hush him. He was wide-eyed and obviously confused by his girlfriend's odd behavior. He opened his mouth to question her only to be hushed again.  
"Gabby, what the hell?" he asked in a whisper, looking at her like she was insane at this point.  
"I just don't want you to wake them. Brett had a rough night," she told him, nodding toward the living room where Brett and Kidd were fast asleep on the couch, quite entangled.  
Casey's eyebrows raised and then furrowed all in one quick motion.  
"Doesn't look too rough to me," he said with a chuckle, earning a smack from Dawson. "Call me crazy, but I have no idea what's going on," he said, stepping into the bedroom where he could speak at a nearer to normal volume.  
"They're having a nap," Dawson said as though it was the most normal thing in the world.  
"Do they have naps together often?" Casey asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"No!" Dawson scoffed, but then her expression changed. "At least, I don't think so… but they were pretty natural about it this morning…"  
"I still don't know what's going on…"  
"Brett's hungover, she barely slept. Kidd showed up a little bit ago to bring her some hangover remedies," Dawson told him.  
"That all makes sense. Where'd the nap come in?" he asked, sitting on the bed.  
"Um…" Dawson realized that she didn't have an answer for that.  
"Have you ever slept with your friends like that? Are there things I need to know…" Casey said goofily, poking her.  
"Of course I never slept with a friend like that!" Dawson exclaimed, inadvertently implying that it was abnormal for Brett and Kidd to be doing it.  
"Wait…. They're not like, together, are they?" Casey asked with just a touch of child-like excitement at the idea of two females.  
"No, Matt, they're not together," Dawson said, but with just a little less passion than she needed.  
"Why did you say it like that?" Casey asked suspiciously.  
"Like what?" Dawson asked innocently.  
"Like you weren't sure if you meant it."  
"Matt, they are not together," she tried again.  
"But….?"  
"But nothing! Leave it alone. You're a perv," she said, frustrated.  
"I'm not a perv! Well, at least, that's not why I'm asking about this. Mostly," he admitted with a grin. "There's obviously something you're not telling me and if it's because it's none of my business, that's fine, but don't lie about it."  
"You're right," she nodded. "I didn't exactly lie to you, though. I don't know what's going on," she shrugged.  
"Can I take a picture of them and send it to Otis?!" Casey asked excitedly, mostly joking.  
"No, you perv!"  
Men.  
Xxx


	2. Chapter 2

A small tremor was immediately followed by the light, joyous sound of laughter. Sylvie smiled to herself, hearing the Milwaukee accent even in the laugh. It was then that she realised that she was not fully awake- perhaps not awake at all- head still cloudy and encompassed in warmth.  
“Hmm?” Sylvie mumbled, unsure where she stood on the line of consciousness.  
“Shh… it’s okay,” that accent said softly, rubbing between her shoulder blades and unintentionally rousing her fully.  
Sylvie sat up, just slightly, and opened her eyes only enough to see Stella smiling above her, eyes shining.  
“I’m sorry I woke ya, Brett,” Stella told her, almost sounding shy. “But now that you’re up have you seen this penguin video?!” she beamed, holding her phone (the source of her laugher, Sylvie guessed) in front of the woman.  
“I’m so sorry I fell asleep!” Sylvie said, nervous suddenly. She sat up quickly only to find that she was still entangled with Kidd, wrapped in a blanket.  
“Nah, don’t be. You needed a nap,” Stella told her casually, sinking back into the couch and glancing to the video on her phone once again.  
“But you didn’t need to sit here and watch YouTube while I slept on you!” Brett whined. “Did I drool? Oh God, I probably drooled.”  
“Hey—I didn’t sit here while you slept on me; I slept too. I just woke up a little quicker than you did,” Stella grinned softly, pulling Brett against her and holding the phone in front of her, a new penguin video playing.  
“You could’ve woken me…” she grumbled, embarrassment beginning to fade as her attention was caught by the penguin who had just slapped his penguin friend in the back of the head.  
“I was too comfy,” Stella told her, slight smirk creeping onto her features. “And you’re drool-face was way too cute.”  
“Stella!” Sylvie shrieked, mortified.  
“I’m kidding!”  
“No, you’re not…” Sylvie said, pout-lip and all.  
“No, I’m not.”

XXX

Dawson arrived back at the apartment just before six thirty to find Brett curled up on the couch, freshly showered and appearing much more well than she was this morning. She smiled and set the bag of groceries onto the counter. “Hey, sailor. You’re looking better,” Gabby grinned, approaching the couch and pulling Brett’s attention away from her phone. “Thanks,” Sylvie smiled, stretching. “I feel a lot better too. Next time remind me that I’m too old to drink like that.” “Oh, the drinking wasn’t the problem; you were pretty good at that. It was the waking up that seemed to cause you trouble,” Gabby laughed, plopping down onto the couch, her eye catching the penguin video playing on Sylvie’s phone. “Ha ha,” Brett said dryly, setting her phone aside. “I’m sorry I didn’t go out for groceries. Aside from nap and shower I didn’t do much today,” she said sadly, still feeling the ramifications of her drinking. “Don’t be sorry. Everyone needs a lazy day now and then,” Gabby smiled softly, deciding to keep her comments about Brett’s nap to herself. “How was your date?” Sylvie asked excitedly, loving Dawson’s nearly constant positivity since she’d been with Matt. “Not much of a date, we just hung out, but it was nice,” Gabby told her, picking up Sylvie’s phone and hitting play on the paused video. “Penguins, huh?” she chuckled at the video. “Yeah, I kind of woke up with them on the brain,” she told her. It wasn’t a lie, right? Dawson was just about to ask why when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye; a CFD hoodie, draped over the back of the couch, that she was sure wasn’t there earlier. She picked it up instinctively and rolled it over in her hands, a smirk growing on her face uncontrollably. Dawson had every intention of giving it time, letting Brett come to her when she was ready to talk, but this was just too good. “I guess it got warm during your nap,” Dawson said, trying to squash the shit-eating grin on her face. “Wh-what do you mean?” Sylvie asked as casually as possible, fumbling with her phone and looking anywhere but at Gabby. “Kidd left her hoodie,” Dawson said directly, holding it up in her hands. “Oh, I- I don’t think that’s hers,” Brett outright lied. “Brett!” Dawson exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “It literally has her name embroidered on it!” “Oh. I didn’t realise she left it,” Brett said nonchalantly. “So, did you guys make out?” Dawson couldn’t help but asked, leaning in closer excitedly. “What?! No! Why would you ask that?” Sylvie squeaked, shifting in her sit uncomfortably and acting like the question was absurd. The deadpan expression on Dawson’s face said it all. “Really, Brett? Why would I ask that?” Dawson asked, head tilted. “First of all, I know you weren’t black out drunk last night when we talked,” Sylvie hung her head, embarrassed. “Second, you know I was home during your little snuggle-nap, right?” she chuckled. “It wasn’t a snuggle-nap,” Brett grumbled half-heartedly, pulling her knees to her chest. “It was a nap. And you were definitely snuggling,” Dawson told her. “We just fell asleep, Dawson. It’s not a big deal,” Sylvie told her, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. “You’ve never fallen asleep with a friend?” Wrong question. Brett had no idea just how wrong the question was, but she was about to find out. “Funny you should ask that…” Dawson said, not trying to worsen her friend’s discomfort but also feeling the need to be honest. “Matt asked me the same thing earlier.” “Wait, what?!” Sylvie asked, beginning to panic. “Why? When? What do you mean?” “Yeah, um, he was also here during your nap,” Dawson admitted. “Only for a minute, but—” “He saw us?” Sylvie asked, wide-eyed, sitting up fully on the couch and looking around as though she might run. “He did,” Dawson told her. “Don’t worry, he thought it was cute. And then he asked if I sleep with my friends like that—” “Oh my god… What does he think? What did you tell him?!” “Brett…” Dawson said calmly, placing a hand on Sylvie’s knee and trying fruitlessly to relax her. “I told him that you were just sleeping, that Kidd brought you over some hangover remedies and you crashed,” she said, looking closely at her flushing friend. “Isn’t that what you just told me it was?” “But…” Sylvie looked like she could begin to cry at any moment and Dawson hated it. “But you never slept with your friends like that…” “No,” Dawson shook her head, “I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong for you to, Brett.” “Oh god…” Sylvie pulled her blanket up over her head, wishing to disappear. The wish was only heightened when she caught Stella’s scent on the material and became immediately drawn in by it. “What am I doing, Gabby?” Sylvie asked, muffled by the blanket. “Do you like her?” Dawson asked softly, pulling on the blanket until sad blue eyes became visible once again. “Last night I just thought I was drunk and confused…” “But now?” “I don’t know,” Sylvie shrugged, folding the blanket under her chin. “Did you have a good day with her?” Sylvie couldn’t fight the genuine smile that crept upon her face at the thought of it. “So good,” she told her. “And I haven’t slept that well in a long time.” “But you didn’t make out?” Dawson couldn’t help but ask. “Gabby!” Brett whipped the blanket at her grinning friend. “Of course we didn’t!” “Why would it be so absurd if you did?” Gabby asked sincerely. “Because it would never happen. Stella is just Stella, you know? She’s not affected by any of this,” Sylvie said, sadness in her voice. “What makes you think that?” “She’s just so chill. She’s not fazed by cuddling or taking a nap or dancing or any of it,” Sylvie told her. “Brett, Kidd is the chill one. She’s relaxed enough for all three of us combined. She could be feeling a lot about this and you wouldn’t know because she doesn’t show it. And because you haven’t asked her,” she said pointedly. “I’m never going to ask her, Dawson. Even in a different world, Stella would never go for someone like me,” she shrugged like it was just a matter of fact. “She’s beautiful and funny and she is so chill. She could have anyone she wanted.” “Self-deprecating is not a good look on you, my friend,” Gabby shook her head. “But I’m not wrong.” “I think you are wrong. Even if she doesn’t seem fazed by it, I’ve never seen Kidd snuggled with anyone, or dance the way you were dancing last night. Or show up with a bunch of hangover stuff just to make sure that you’re okay,” Dawson told her. “She’s a great person, for sure, but I’ve known her for a long time and I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you.” “It’ll pass, Gabby. Whatever this is, whatever crap I’m feeling, it’ll go away,” Sylvie said, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself. “Maybe you’re right,” Dawson shrugged, rising from the couch. “But I don’t know why you’d want it to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart wants what it wants...

It was getting cold out. Okay, so maybe fifty-seven degrees in early October in Chicago couldn’t really constitute at ‘cold’ but it was getting chilly. At least that’s why Brett told herself that she pulled on Stella’s hoodie as she walked out of her apartment.  
She hadn’t even made it through the doors to the firehouse when Jimmy rushed up to her, looking like the sad puppy that he actually was.  
“Brett- Brett, hey,” he said quickly, out of breath. “I wanted to catch up with you and apologize for the other night,” he told her, looking so sincere that she felt guilty for overreacting at the bar.  
“It’s fine, Jimmy. Honestly. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like I did, either,” she admitted, entering the firehouse with the young man close behind her.  
“No, it was totally my fault. I was trying to make you feel better but it obviously didn’t work,” he said sheepishly.  
“It’s okay. I was just on edge. I don’t think anything you could have said would have made me feel better,” she told him, looking around to see Mouch in his spot on the couch, Otis, Matt and Gabby around the counter.  
“So we’re cool?” Jimmy asked hopefully.  
“Totally cool. Consider it forgotten,” she nodded, eyes still roaming the common room subconsciously.  
“Awesome,” he grinned. “Thanks for being so cool, Brett,” he added before scampering off.  
Brett chuckled to herself at his choice of description for her. She was anything but cool.  
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Dawson said happily as Brett approached.  
“Morning to you,” Brett said, pouring herself some coffee without hesitation. “You must’ve been up early,” she said, having not seen Gabby at the apartment that morning.  
“Yeah, Matt and I went to breakfast,” she told her, unable to hide her happiness.  
“Awwwwww!” Otis said over-dramatically, earning a slap to the chest from Matt.  
“It is pretty adorable,” Brett concurred.  
Brett excused herself to the locker room, to lock up her bag and ready herself for the shift. She wasn’t surprised to see Stella already there, standing at her own locker, but her heart picked up speed nonetheless.  
“G’morning, babe. You’re looking nice and fresh today,” Stella said coolly, leaning against her locker and beaming at the blonde.  
“Compared to yesterday, maybe,” Brett acted unaffected even though her heart raced and skin tingled at the words.  
“Nah, cuddly day off is a good look for you,” Stella grinned, shutting her locker and turning to face the woman fully.  
“You, too,” Brett couldn’t keep herself from saying.  
Then she froze.  
Were they flirting? It kind of seemed like they were flirting. It had been so long since Brett had flirted with anyone (and she never was very good at it) that she couldn’t be sure. Her mind was reeling and she realised that she hadn’t spoken or moved in probably long enough to be awkward.  
Brett realised that Stella was still watching her as she began to take off her hoodie and place it in her locker for the day. Until that moment she had forgotten that it wasn’t actually her hoodie at all. She froze again.  
“I thought I left that at your place!” Stella said, nodding at the sweatshirt, not missing Sylvie’s nervous expression.  
“Oh, right. I just brought it to give back to you,” she lied, poorly, holding the hoodie out to her friend, eyes darting across the floor.  
“Nah,” Stella said, beginning to walk away but stopping intentionally behind Sylvie before whispering, “It looks better on you.”  
Brett stared into her locker as Stella walked away, trying to calm herself. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hard, telling herself that it didn’t mean anything- she was reading too much into it. She pulled the hoodie back on anyway.

XXX

“What’s up, ‘S. Kidd’?” Dawson asked with a chuckle, approaching the ambulance as Sylvie took inventory that evening.  
“Shut up,” Sylvie said, looking around nervously to assure that no one was within earshot.   
“You’re funny,” Dawson said plainly, climbing into the ambo and looking too closely at the embroidery on Brett’s chest. “I noticed it this morning but I didn’t have a chance to call you out in private,” she admitted. “I assumed you were going to give it back.”  
“I was,” Sylvie shrugged, busying herself with her restocking as Dawson looked at her expectantly.   
“But….?”  
“She saw that I had it on in the locker room—”  
“And you freaked out,” Dawson predicted.  
“Well I didn’t plan for her to see me wearing it!” Sylvie exclaimed.  
“And then…”  
“I told her I brought it to give back to her and she wouldn’t take it.” A mild exaggeration.  
“Why?” Dawson asked, brow furrowed in confusion.  
Brett brought her voice to a mere whisper. “She said it looked better on me.”  
Dawson’s eyes went wide and a grin took over her features. She slapped Brett on the arm out of excitement.  
“Dude! Of course she did!” Dawson almost yelled.  
“I think she was just being Stella,” Sylvie shrugged, though she had been wondering about it all shift.  
“You think a lot of things are just her being Stella, but I think they’re just her being Stella with you,” Dawson told her pointedly.  
“What about Stella?” Stella herself asked, head leaning around the opened ambulance doors suddenly.  
Both Brett and Dawson froze like deer. Gabby couldn’t wipe the smile from her face but Brett looked like she was about to vomit.   
“If you guys are talkin’ shit at least own up to it,” Stella added playfully, hopping into the back of the ambo casually.  
“We weren’t,” Sylvie said, sounding sad that Kidd could ever think that.  
“I know, babe,” Stella grinned, leaning back onto the bench and staring at the ceiling while Dawson forced eye contact with Sylvie out of her view. “I’m bored. You know, I never wish for anything bad to happen to anyone, but I could really use a call right about now,” she said, pulling her arms up behind her head and making herself comfortable.   
Sylvie grinned.  
“You are an awful person,” she joked, poking Stella in the ribs without overthinking it. “You want these fine residents of Chicago to be in danger just so you have something to do,” she poked again, only to have her hand grabbed roughly as Stella laughed. Dawson just watched with amusement.  
“They don’t have to be the ‘fine residents,’ Brett. Maybe like a rapist or an abusive husband could be in danger. You ever think of that?” Stella joked, still grasping Sylvie’s arm.  
“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” Sylvie smiled.  
“Well I’m gonna—” Dawson started, looking around as she tried to think of an excuse to leave them alone. “Clean. I’m going to clean,” she decided. “Because I’m bored, too, but I’m just as happy to not have a call,” she said, shooting Sylvie a look before hopping out of the ambulance.   
“I should probably do something, too, before Severide finds me hiding in here,” Stella sighed, sitting up and letting go of Brett’s wrist.   
“I’d tell you to help me with inventory but it’s already done,” Brett shrugged, putting the last of her stock away.   
“Too bad…” Stella said, looking around the ambo and seeming reluctant to leave. “I think I might try to get some sleep soon,” she said, fighting off a yawn as she finally stood. “I slept so well during that nap yesterday that I could barely sleep last night.”  
Brett couldn’t shake the thought from her mind that maybe, just maybe, Stella was kept up at night thinking about their time together, as she had been.  
“Should I say ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘you’re welcome’?” Brett allowed herself to grin.  
“Oh, definitely ‘you’re welcome’,” she told her, eyes smiling. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time.”


	4. Chapter 4

After an exhausting week, the family of Firehouse 51 was looking forward to their much-needed forty-eight hours off. As the shift came to an end, they began to part ways under the assumption that most of them would see each other during their brief time off. They were a family, after all.  
“Sylvie!” Jimmy rushed up to her excitedly as she gathered her things in the common room. “Sylvie, hey,” he grinned, stopping at her side.  
This kid seemed more and more like a rambunctious puppy as time passed.  
“Hey, Jimmy,” Brett smiled weakly, waiting for Dawson to head home.  
“Hey. A bunch of us are going out tonight and I hoped that you’d come with us,” he asked, not in the casual way that any of her other friends would have. His eyes were hopeful and it made Brett’s stomach flop uncomfortably.  
“Actually, I’m planning to take some time off from drinking. After last week, a chill few days at home is more my speed,” she told him, honestly, catching Dawson out of the corner of her eye and hoping that the woman would approach and effectively end the conversation.  
“Oh well you don’t have to drink. You could just come out and shoot some pool with me or something?”  
There is was. ‘Shoot pool with ME.’ Not ‘us’. Brett sighed quietly.  
“Thanks for the offer, Jimmy. I’m just ready for some down time,” she told him, hoping to let him down gently.   
“Oh, okay. No problem,” he nodded, disappointment apparent in his expression. “Well have a good weekend, Sylvie,” he added, walking away from her quickly.  
“That wasn’t very nice,” Otis said, startling Brett.  
“What? What wasn’t?” Brett spat out, brow furrowed.   
“You know he didn’t mean to piss you off last week. You don’t seem like the type to hold a grudge,” Otis shrugged.  
“I’m not holding a grudge,” she told him even though it was absolutely none of his business. “Honestly, I’m over it.”  
Otis could tell that Brett was being honest. It didn’t quell his confusion about the situation.  
“So why won’t you hang out with him?” he asked genuinely.  
“Because I’m taking some time off from drinking and looking forward to relaxing at home,” she said slowly, pointedly, irritation growing.  
“Yeah, okay,” he rolled his eyes disbelievingly.  
“Otis—”  
“Look, I know it’s none of my business—”  
“You’re right.”  
“but I’m just saying the kid likes you, alright? He’s a good guy,” he told her.  
“Otis, I know he’s a good guy. But I don’t want to give him the wrong impression. And hanging out with him when he’s asking like that would definitely make him think I’m interested.”  
“You’re not?” Otis asked as though the idea was absurd.  
“No,” Sylvie told him.   
“Oh…” Otis looked sincerely lost by the idea of it.  
“Look, if you like him so much maybe you should go out with him,” Sylvie smirked.  
“Ha. Ha,” he said dryly. “Whatever, Brett. Have a good weekend.”  
Brett took a deep breath, savoring a moment of peace once the boys had gone. Dawson finally approached a minute later with Matt in tow. He smiled at Brett before kissing Gabby on the cheek and making his way out the door.  
“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to this break,” Brett smiled at her friend.  
“Oh, I do,” Dawson countered, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Severide’s going out of town for the weekend so I’m going to stay at Matt’s,” she beamed. “Are you cool with that?” she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her way slowly to the exit.  
“Of course I am!” Sylvie smiled, happy for her. “You deserve some alone time. And I was just telling- well, everyone who asked- that I’m staying in this weekend to relax.”  
“That’s good. You deserve it, too,” Dawson told her, obviously keeping herself from saying something more.  
“What?” Sylvie asked skeptically, knowing the look from Dawson all too well.  
“I was just thinking, maybe you should ask Stella over this weekend? I mean, you’ll have the place to yourself, so…”  
“Gabby!” Brett scoffed. “That’s just weird. And creepy. ‘Hey little girl, wanna come over to my place?’” she mocked in an old man voice.  
“Well you definitely just made it weird,” Dawson chuckled, shaking her head. “But it wouldn’t be, assuming you don’t actually ask her like that,” she laughed. “She hangs out there with us all the time!”  
“Yeah, Gabby. With us,” Brett noted. “If she comes over and sees that you’re not there, that we’re alone…”  
“Then what? She’ll want to leave? I doubt it, Brett,” Dawson nodded seriously. “She might even prefer it…” she sang.   
Brett rolled her eyes. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about spending time with the woman while they were off, not that she would admit it if asked.  
“I don’t know, Dawson…” she practically whined.  
“Just don’t make it weird. Invite her to hang out, simple as that. She does, she does. She doesn’t, she doesn’t,” Dawson shrugged, hugging her friend quickly. “I’m out. Text me!”  
Brett rolled her eyes again, at nothing and everything at the same time. For a solid week, things had been back to normal; chilling at work, saving lives, only occasionally wishing your friend was curled up on the couch with you. It would only be inviting more emotional turmoil if she invited Stella over, right?  
She exited the building and contemplated the tumult of emotions running through her, taking a moment to enjoy the sun and breeze of the spring day. Just as she began to calm, the object of her confusion came busting out the door.  
“What’s up, Big Eyes?” Stella smiled, bumping Sylvie’s shoulder affectionately.   
“Hey,” Sylvie greeted her softly, remaining near to the woman.   
“What’re you up to this weekend? Did the guys convince you to go out tonight?” she asked as they began their slow walk away from the firehouse.  
“No, but they tried,” Sylvie told her, hoping to hold on to her time with the woman just a bit longer. “I’m so looking forward to a quiet weekend at home. A book and maybe some Netflix,” she said honestly.  
“Yeah, that does sound pretty appealing,” Stella admitted, stretching her back and catching Brett’s eye unintentionally.   
“You’re not going out?” Brett couldn’t help but ask.   
“I might grab a beer tomorrow, but tonight I’m thinking a bottle of wine and a blanket,” she winked, throwing Sylvie’s resolve straight out the window.  
“You know what?” Sylvie said playfully before her sanity could stop her. “I think I might have both of those things at my place,” she smirked, catching the look as Stella’s eyes brightened.  
“Oh, do you, now?” Stella beamed, bumping Sylvie’s shoulder again as they walked, allowing their arms to continue to brush softly.   
Okay, they were definitely flirting now, Sylvie decided. Was Stella aware of that? She wasn’t sure. But the butterflies in her stomach were strong enough to leave her wanting more.  
“I thought you were looking forward to a quiet weekend alone at home?” Stella asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself.  
“I never said alone,” Brett corrected her quickly, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the light in Stella’s eyes.  
“You didn’t? Hmm… I guess Netflix and wine do sound pretty lonely solo,” Stella was full-on smirking now, only causing Sylvie’s butterflies to stir.   
Brett shook her head quickly, trying to rid herself of the daze she was in and failing.  
“So then I’ll see you at seven,” Brett told her. It wasn’t a question.  
“Six fifty-three,” Stella corrected, parting ways with the smile still lingering on her face.  
Shit, Brett thought, despite her excitement. What the hell did she do?  
XXX


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> six fifty-three

6:13 PM. Brett towel-dried her hair as she checked the mirror, again. She had changed outfits three and a half times, nothing seemed satisfactory or circumstantially appropriate. What were the circumstances? That was the problem. She wanted to look good without looking like she was trying to look good. This was an evening in with a friend, she reminded herself. It wasn’t a date.  
6:21 PM. Just the tiniest hint of lip gloss was applied before Brett decided that she should change her shirt. The colourful plaid was too casual and too lumberjack-esque at the same time. She dug through her closet for a fourth time and wished that Dawson was home to ask for advice.  
Classic white tee shirt? Too plain.  
Striped three-quarter length, fitted just right to make her chest look fantastic? Trying too hard.  
Not-dating your friend who you recently developed a crush on was hard.  
That’s all it was, right? A crush? Brett thought about when she had a thing for Jimmy earlier in the year. He was cute, she liked being around him, no big deal. Maybe this would pass…  
6:28 PM. Plain black tank top. Good fit, still comfortable. The perfect mix of comfort and confidence. Brett made herself leave the bedroom before she decided otherwise.  
As she made her way into the kitchen, she took note of the blankets that she had prepared on the couch. She had made a conscious decision to pull two out of the closet instead of one, not wanting Stella to presume they had to share. Oh, but how she wanted to share. Like they had last week. Snuggled in warmth and love and heart-fluttering joy.  
Jesus, she needed to calm down.  
To the kitchen, where two newly purchased bottles of wine sat on the counter in waiting. (She may have lied when she told Stella she already had it at her place, but no one ever needed to know that.) One white, one red. Brett knew that Stella preferred white, though she enjoyed a few glasses of red when she was feeling ‘bold’. She got both, just in case.  
It wasn’t until six forty-seven that the heart palpitations began, closely followed by the pacing. Sylvie was beginning to question everything. Should she be wearing socks instead of barefoot? Should she get out wine glasses? Maybe she could have cooked, or at least ordered a pizza. She was a terrible host and a terrible friend and Stella would never like her and this night was going to shit before it even began.  
The knock on the door at precisely six fifty-three put an instant stop to her internal neuroses.  
“Stella, hi,” Brett smiled, opening the door and silently sighing in relief.  
Kidd was dressed in a simple grey tee shirt and jeans, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Casual, but stunning as always. Brett realised she was staring.  
“You almost sound surprised to see me, babe,” Stella grinned, leaning on the doorframe like she knew she looked good.  
“No, no. Come in,” Brett told her, shaking herself out of her daze.  
“Sylvie Brett, you little rascal!” Stella exclaimed, making her way to the kitchen counter. “You lied to me!”  
“What? What do you mean?” Brett began to panic before she even knew why.  
“All your talk of taking a break from drinking and you expect me to believe that you just happened to have two bottles of the good stuff lying around the house?!” Stella accused, acknowledging the wine that awaited them. “You were trying to entice me with alcohol you didn’t even have,” she smirked.  
“M-maybe I was saving it for a special occasion?” Brett squeaked, trying to be witty and failing.  
“M-maybe you should work on your lying skills,” Stella winked.  
“Shut up,” Brett huffed, pushing Stella’s shoulder before grabbing the corkscrew out of the drawer. “Or you won’t get any of my ‘special occasion wine.’”  
“Where’s the fun in that?” she smiled, pushing Brett’s shoulder back.

I shouldn’t be drinking.   
I shouldn’t be drinking.   
I SHOULDN’T BE DRINKING!   
It was becoming a mantra as Sylvie prepared herself to pour the two glasses of wine. Why?   
1\. Last week, to which she had been fondly referring as ‘Hangover Hell.’  
2\. Drinking with Stella, without the comfort of being in public to keep her heart-eyes in check or Dawson to call her out if she got too bold (or dumb.)  
3\. The whirlwind of feelings and thoughts and hormones that had been recently overwhelming her where Stella was involved.  
She shouldn’t be drinking. Alas…   
“Red or white?” Sylvie asked casually, as though she wasn’t curiously awaiting the decision.  
“Hmm…” Stella sincerely contemplating, eyeing them both. “We’ll go red. I’m feeling bold.”  
Uh oh.  
“Red it is,” Sylvie gulped.  
“So what’re we watching?” Stella asked, leaning on the counter and she sipped her wine happily.  
“Ladies choice,” Sylvie responded before silently chastising herself for the verbiage.  
“Well in that case maybe we should ask Jimmy,” Stella chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “And speaking of whom, I heard you finally took the bait.”  
“What? What bait?” Sylvie asked, tilting her head in confusion.  
“You finally agreed to go out with him,” Stella said as though it was obvious.   
“No, I didn’t! Who said that?” Sylvie asked, blood pressure rising, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.   
“Just around the house. They’re saying you finally fell for his wooing after all this time,” she shrugged.   
“That’s not true at all,” Sylvie told her seriously, needing too much for Stella to understand that she definitely was not interested in Jimmy Borelli. “He asked me to hang out tonight and it seemed like he meant in a date kind of way. I politely declined,” she explained, looking too closely into Stella’s eyes as she spoke.  
“I know,” Stella nodded, face finally breaking into a smirk.  
“What?” Sylvie’s brow furrowed, watching Stella’s expression change and feeling unable to keep up with the turn of emotions.  
“I know you turned him down. I just needed to figure out if you were actually into him,” Stella shrugged casually.  
“So made all that up? Seriously, Stell!” Brett growled, grabbing Stella’s arm and shaking her hard. “You know if you needed to know if I was into him you could’ve just asked me.”  
“Oh, so we’re being direct now?” Stella asked, eyebrow raised, looking too closely at Brett from too close of a proximity.  
“Aren’t we always?” Brett asked, warily, knowing that they were no longer talking about Jimmy, even if they weren’t being direct at all.  
Stella narrowed her eyes, studying Brett’s face and refusing to back down. She watched as the flood of emotions rushed through Brett’s giant eyes and it made her head swim.  
“Like I said, you need to work on your lying.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You guys need to liven up a little bit. This is pathetic!” Herrmann told them dramatically from behind the bar. The very quiet, borderline sullen bar.  
Cruz sighed deeply before looking to his left, (Otis, Mouch, Capp) then his right, (Jimmy) and taking a big swig of the beer in front of him.   
“Anyone want to shoot pool?” he asked his happily, getting almost no reaction.  
Mouch and Otis were in the midst of a heated debate over wool or cotton socks. Capp looked like his was about to nod off into his beverage. And Jimmy looked…discouraged.   
“You guys are actin’ like a bunch of back up dancers for the Rockettes,” Herrmann teased, looking at the listless group of men.  
“We ARE the back up dancers for the Rockettes,” Mouch noted, earning a chuckle from Cruz.  
“Not to mention this place is kind of…” Otis looked around the notably female-less bar, “testosterone-y, tonight,” he shrugged.  
“Heh, Testosteroni,” Capp chuckled.  
“We only have like, three female friends,” Cruz said, not seeing the big deal.  
“Right. None of whom are here,” Otis countered. “Then you take out Casey and Severide and you’re left with—”  
“Us,” Jimmy concluded dully.  
“Naw, it’s nice that they have their own stuff going on. Casey got Dawson, Severide’s at his dad’s—”  
“Brett wanted to be alone,” Jimmy added, complete with an eyeroll.  
“Where’s Kidd?” Mouch asked, almost disappointed that she wasn’t out with them and didn’t seem to have a valid excuse like the others did.  
“She mentioned something about a sleepover,” Herrmann shrugged, looking around before slyly throwing back a shot. “Probably at Brett’s,” he added casually.  
Cruz laughed loudly before realizing that no one else was.  
“Herrmann, I assume Stella meant like with a guy, for sex, when she said sleepover. Not like braiding each other’s hair,” he pointed out.   
“Oh…” Herrmann nodded, realization hitting him. “I guess I spend too much time with my kids.”  
“Besides, Brett wanted to be alone tonight or else she’d be here with us,” Jimmy informed them, trying hard not to feel like he was shot down. “She said she’s gonna take a break from drinking for a little while.”  
“Well I’m proud of her,” Herrmann said genuinely, tipping his glass in salute. “She’s a good egg.”  
XXX  
 

“You’re freaking kidding me, right?” Kidd scoffed, mouth still agape from the suggestion. “That wine really hit ya. Guess I’m not the only one feeling bold tonight,” she smirked.  
“What? You’re surprised I want to?” Sylvie asked, eyes wild as she leaned nearer to her friend.  
“Not surprised you want to. Surprised you’re brave enough to go for it,” Stella shrugged.  
“Oh, it is SO on,” Sylvie challenged, wagging her eyebrows.  
“I don’t know, honey. You have no idea what you’re getting in to,” Stella nodded, all cocky appeal.  
“You. Me. Right now. Arm wrestling match. Loser pays winner fifty bucks!” Sylvie officially announced, already crawling off the couch and onto the floor near the coffee table.  
“You got nothing, sunshine. Let’s do this,” Stella narrowed her eyes, also crawling toward the table.  
“What? You think paramedics don’t get a workout? Just ‘cause you’re the badass chick on Truck you think you’re stronger than me?” Sylvie whined in her ‘tough’ voice, one already empty wine bottle speaking loud and clear.  
“Babe, I’m not saying that paramedics don’t get a workout,” Stella softened, resting her hand on Brett’s and effectively pushing aside the blond woman’s tipsy façade. “But I AM the badass chick on Truck and I’m definitely stronger than you,” she winked, cracking her knuckles.  
“Alright, let’s go,” Sylvie rubbed her hands together and steadied her elbow on the table, eyes boring into Kidd’s from across the small space. “Count of three.”  
They shifted to face each other fully and Sylvie extended her right hand in waiting. The moment that Stella’s hand touched hers, soft palm gliding gently over her own, her focus was temporarily clouded. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to channel the adrenaline that just a second ago was driving her desire to win this competition. The adrenaline was displaced as soon as they touched.  
“You got this, Sylvie,” she said, unaware that it was aloud.  
“Cocky, huh?” Stella asked, causing Brett to open her eyes once again, back to reality.  
“Nah. Confident,” Brett winked. “Ready?”  
“SO ready,” Stella smirked.  
“One.”  
“Two.”  
“Three.”  
Despite the determination on each woman’s face, the battle was lackluster. Both were comparably strong and the probably victor seemed to waver from one moment to the next. Hands remained clasped, eyes remained locked as they fought to prove their strength (though neither woman could remember why anymore).   
“Are you letting me win?” Sylvie asked, voice raspy and thoughts much more focused on the look in Stella’s eyes than on the arm wrestling competition.  
“You’d have to be winning for me to be letting you,” Stella quipped, watching too closely as Sylvie’s lips twitched into a grin.   
As their hands battled squarely, Sylvie remained distracted by the sparkle in Stella’s big brown eyes. By the soft line of her nose right before she smiled. By the way her tongue just barely peeked out from her lips, perhaps in concentration.   
Brett didn’t realise that she had been staring at Stella’s mouth until she felt the flush along her throat, the heat that began and her temples and ran down her spine. She looked back up into Stella’s eyes to find them clouded, apparently having been watching Sylvie watch her. Neither of them spoke, the tension palpable but encompassing. Sylvie’s eyes traveled to Stella’s lips once again, this time completely intentionally.  
The William Tell Overture burst out of Brett’s phone speakers with all the gusto of a Firehouse alarm, violently startling both women out of their shared trance and causing them to wrench apart suddenly.  
“Why is that your ringtone?!” Stella shrieked, standing and face-palming as she began to shift her weight, discomfort undisguisable.  
“I…” Sylvie was sat on the floor, staring at the table where Stella had just been, seemingly unable to pull herself from her thoughts even though her phone continued to blare next to her. “Sorry…” she mumbled, running her hand through her hair awkwardly before finally picking up her phone.  
Dawson. Of course it was Dawson. ‘Good fucking timing, Gabby’, Brett thought.  
“Hello?” Brett squeaked out, standing as she took the call but watching Stella pace uncomfortably.  
“Hey, Brett. How are ya?” Dawson asked casually, sounding peaceful and happy through the phone.  
“Oh, uh, okay,” Brett nodded, though Dawson couldn’t see her, mind swimming and trying to stay afloat long enough to have an unsuspecting conversation with her friend. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. Everything okay?”  
Without hesitation, Brett strode over to the kitchen and opened the second bottle of wine, pouring hearty glasses for both herself and Stella, who was several feet away and looking at the floor, unknowingly causing Brett’s lungs to burn with worry.  
“Yeah, everything’s great. I just wanted to check in on you and you’re ‘alone time’,” Dawson told her with a slight chuckle.   
“All—” GULP “All good here,” Brett told her between sips of wine.  
“Brett, are you drunk?!” Dawson asked suddenly, finally acknowledging her friend’s strange demeanor and tone of voice.  
“What? No!” Brett said too dramatically, making herself unconvincing.  
Only half in the conversation, Brett walked to the far side of the kitchen with Stella’s freshly poured glass of wine in her hand. She touched the woman’s shoulder softly, gaining her attention, and was surprised to find the clouded, lustful tone still reflecting in her eyes. She couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her own face.  
“I leave for one night and you’re drinking at home alone?” Dawson said, trying to sound like a controlling mother, not genuinely concerned.  
“I’m not alone,” Brett told her boldly, unsure if it was the alcohol or the look in Stella’s eyes that was fueling her.  
“Oh. You’re. NOT?!” Dawson punctuated dramatically.   
Brett could actually hear the woman’s mouth fall open in surprise. She laughed.  
“Nah, I don’t really like to drink alone,” Brett smirked, bumping Stella’s hip with her own playful and causing the woman to gasp and push her by the shoulders.  
“I thought you were taking a break from drinking?” Dawson asked with a chuckle.  
“Yeah, so did I,” Brett shrugged, sipping her wine as she spoke.  
“She lies, Dawson!” Stella called into the phone. “Don’t believe a word she says. She promised me food and movies and then she got me drunk instead,” she could barely get all of the words out as Sylvie was pinching her hips and attempting to tickle her sides to keep her from talking.  
Through the phone, Gabby could hear the symphony of laughter and banter. She desperately wanted to ask Brett if they had made out yet but thought better of it since she knew that Stella could hear the conversation. So she improvised.  
“Come on, Brett! You gotta at least buy your lady dinner before you get her drunk!” Dawson said, tone joking but intent not. She could hear the gasp through the phone.  
“She’s right, Sylvie. It’s good manners,” Stella added with a wink.   
“Dawson, shouldn’t you be getting laid right now or something?” Sylvie snapped suddenly, even surprising herself with her need to get her roommate off the phone.  
“Daaaaaammnn, Brett! How much did you have to drink?” Dawson asked, laughing heartily at her friend’s question.   
“I just meant—” Brett tried to recover her statement and failed.  
“You meant you want to get off the phone,” Dawson laughed. “I knew what you meant. I’m just surprised how you said it.”  
“Me too,” she heard Stella say in the background.  
“Whatever,” Sylvie grumbled, rolling her eyes and feeling embarrassed. “Maybe I was just looking out for you, Dawson.”  
“Oh, okay Sylvia,” Dawson said dryly. “You ladies have a good night. I guess I need to go get laid or something,” she added loudly before hanging up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulholland Drive.

Mulholland Drive. David Lynch. Naomi Watts. Sylvie had heard about how good it was, years ago, but never had a chance to see it. She hadn’t heard about the overt lesbian themes and sex scene. She was suddenly very glad that she had chosen to prepare two blankets, as she was currently using her own to hide her blushing discomfort.  
From the opposite side of the couch (much further away than usual, Sylvie noted), Stella was in the same boat. Not much made Stella feel awkward, nothing really embarrassed her, but right now she was starting to twitch. Under normal circumstances, Stella would have used this opportunity to make some snide remark; how Sylvie must have known about this scene, or something about two hot chicks getting it on. These were not normal circumstances. All of Stella’s natural bravado was out the window when she felt the nerves swimming in her stomach and saw just how uncomfortable Sylvie was. It was more than apparent that this was not her intention.  
Sylvie cleared her throat quickly, draining her wine glass and setting it on the table as if her heart wasn’t pounding in her ears. She felt torn. She wanted to proclaim that she had no idea about this aspect of the movie, that she just tended to like David Lynch films, but that felt forced. Bringing it up would only acknowledge her discomfort further, which was the last thing she wanted. Sylvie considered excusing herself to the kitchen to get the rest of the wine (she certainly felt like she could use it right now) but that too seemed unnecessary. She wasn’t sure if she hoped that Stella was feeling equally awkward or not. Her silence implied that she was.  
Fortunately, the scene didn’t go on for too long and Sylvie had managed not to make a fool of herself as it was transpiring. She had only glanced at Stella a few (dozen) times and didn’t appear to have been caught. She cleared her throat again without realizing it before rising from the couch and heading for the wine bottle. Stella shifted on the couch when Sylvie returned to top off her glass. They still hadn’t spoken a word.  
“Well that was intense,” Stella said suddenly, only glancing at Sylvie for a moment before looking back to the screen, almost as though she hadn’t said a word.  
“Um, yeah,” Sylvie replied curtly, taking a gulp of wine, unsure whether she should feed the conversation. She heard Stella swallow.  
Silencio.  
“I wonder if she’s dead,” Stella said, contemplative, a look of enlightenment on her face that grounded Sylvie slightly.  
“Really? I just thought she was crazy,” Sylvie shrugged, happy for the distraction and slight change of subject. “She’s imagining how she wants her life to be, instead of how it is.”  
“Right, but how appropriate would that be if she’s imagining it because she’s dead?” Stella raised an eyebrow, waxing existential.  
“I don’t think you can imagine when you’re dead,” Sylvie chuckled, inadvertently leaning nearer to Stella.  
“Eh, that was some pretty hot sex. Something like that might stick with ya,” Stella smirked, sticking her tongue out for good measure.  
Sylvie shook her head as she laughed, fighting the blush creeping onto her cheeks. At least they weren’t sitting in awkward lesbian sex scene silence anymore.  
The movie came to an end and Sylvie couldn’t shake the fog that clouded her mind in it’s wake. It was something she’d be analyzing for a while, all hot sex scenes aside. Stella apparently agreed.  
“I don’t get the movie part,” Stella said suddenly, standing and shaking her blanket out, seemingly unsure of what to do now. “Like, how did that even come in to play?”  
“That’s how she wanted her life to be,” Sylvie reiterated, watching as Stella stood, fidgeting with the blanket.  
“But it wasn’t even going good. Why wasn’t she imagining being a movie star? It didn’t even work out. If I’m fantasizing about my ideal life, I’m going for the gold,” Stella shrugged.  
“I think the point is that you can never completely forget the reality. Her life was awful so anything was better than how it really was,” Sylvie told her, really wondering why she was still just standing there and being to get nervous about it.  
1:27 AM. The green digital lights from the oven gave Sylvie her answer. Stella was preparing to leave. It was only natural at this time of night, Sylvie decided. Of course, Stella was planning to head home. She couldn’t help but wish that she wouldn’t.  
“So, I guess I’m gonna—”  
“Do you want to stay?” Sylvie breathed out in a rush, beating Stella to finishing her sentence.  
Stella was visibly surprised by the question, wide-eyes and all.  
“I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. It’s late and I’m sure you want to get home. But you could, I mean, if you wanted to. My couch is comfy and, well, I guess you know that because you slept on it before.”  
Sylvie didn’t know that so many words were going to awkwardly come out of her mouth when she opened it. But now here they were.  
“I need pants.”  
“What?!” Sylvie was stunned by Stella’s words, having expected her to say just about anything but that.  
“Well I’m not sleeping in these jeans,” Stella said as though it was obvious. “And I’m not sure you want me to sleep in my underwear like I’m at home.”  
Sylvie almost (almost) told her that she certainly wouldn’t mind that. She thought better of it, alarming herself by even having that thought.  
“I have pants,” Sylvie nodded solemnly.  
Stella smiled, looking into Brett’s serious eyes and fighting rolling her own.  
“Pants it is.”  


XXX  
The first rays of morning sunshine were just beginning to peek through the blinds when Sylvie began to stir awake, warm and comfortable and unsure why she was suddenly regaining consciousness. The first thing she realised (after the warm comfort she felt) was a dry, fibrous sensation on her lips, causing her to puff air out before she’d even opened her eyes. The muffled laugh was what finally woke her fully.  
Dawson’s deep brown eyes smiled down at her, the woman covering her mouth with her left hand. It was clear from her look that she was holding in her laughter.  
“Gabby, what the f---” Sylvie grumbled before Dawson shushed her, quietly and promptly.  
As Sylvie took in her surroundings, her eyes widened and everything began to fall into place. Almost everything. She was lying on her back on the couch, Stella wrapped securely around her. The sleeping woman’s long, curly hair had begun to come out of it’s ponytail and a few strands of it were splayed over Sylvie’s face, into her mouth. She would have laughed at the situation if she wasn’t so panic stricken.  
“This is beginning to become a routine,” Dawson whispered, still grinning wildly at her friend.  
“What are you doing here?” Sylvie spat, trying her damnedest not to move a muscle and risk waking Stella.  
“Man, you are all kinds of happy to see me lately,” Dawson rolled her eyes, looking at the end of the couch where the two women’s feet were sticking out from the blanket.  
“I thought you were staying with Casey?” Sylvie asked, so emotionally wrought that she didn’t even apologise.  
“I needed to get my boots. We’re going on a hike,” Dawson informed her. “And let me tell you, I’m sure glad I stopped in,” she added with a laugh.  
“Shut up,” Sylvie rolled her eyes, looking down to see Stella’s peaceful face resting above her heart. It didn’t make her own heart calm down one bit.  
“Maybe you two should get off your asses and come with us,” Dawson suggested, still eyeing the pair closely in amusement.  
“Huh-uh,” Stella grumbled her rejection of the idea, eyes still closed. “Sleeping,” she added, lips grazing Sylvie’s collarbone and causing the woman to shiver.  
“You don’t even know what I suggested,” Dawson scoffed, perching on the edge of the couch cushion now that Stella was rousing.  
“Hiking. And nope,” Stella mumbled, pulling Sylvie further into her and sighing deeply.  
Dawson’s smile widened along with Sylvie’s eyes.  
Sylvie took a deep breath and shut her eyes, hard. Was this a dream? Everything had seemed so surreal lately. Maybe she was crazy and just imagining her life the way that she wanted it to be. Hell, maybe Stella was right; maybe she was dead.  


XXX  
“Geez, Babe. What took you so long?” Casey smiled, watching as Dawson finally came back to the car.  
She already had her phone in hand, smile on her face.  
“Let me show you.”  
XXX


End file.
